It seems from the time that you were born you were aware that there were things that you were not able to do, and this made you very, very mad. I konw that sometimes babies just cry, but not you. You’ve always been a mover and a shaker, just without the coordination or muscle skills to do so. As you’re gaining these skills though, I can see the accomplishment and pride flash in your eyes. It is a brief triumph however, for you soon find something else slightly beyond your reach. I am proud of you for this, little man. I know that we reach our places of joy one step at a time- one stretch at a time.

In the last few weeks you have decided that sleep is rather boring and you’d rather be doing just about anything else- even if it is waving several strands of my hair around in your little hand, and then stuffing it all in your slobbery mouth. Your Dad and I usually spend a good hour or two every night prepping you for bed, but it usually ends the same: me grumbling as I get out from under my just-comfortable blanket for the 6th time to re-insert your pacifier (after I search your hands, the crib, and the floor for it) and convince you to sleep again.

You have two lengths of hair now. There are several whispy strands of hair that are a good 2 inches long. The rest of your head is covered in 3/8 of an inch of the lightest blond fuzz. It’s like your hair folicles decided to start growing on the same day- with the exception of those that had been with the program since before you were born.

You are exceptionally handsome and we are still trying to figure out where those good looks came from. We both come from decent looking families and are fine looking folks ourselves, but you? You are a substantially more attractive person than either your Father or me. I’d even go so far as to say that you are a pretty boy. Blond hair, blue eyes, dimples? Seriously? Oh, and your eyelashes are dangerously long.

Your love for the song, “Big and Chunky” by will.i.am knows no bounds. We think it might be due to the fact that when we play it we dance around the room like mokeys. Still, you smile when it comes on.

Other times you smile: when I greet you in the morning, when I sing to you, when you see Dad come home from work, when you see strangers smile at you, and when you get to stand up on your chubby legs.

We love you Mr. Danger. We can’t wait to be here while you turn into the man we know is already in there somewhere.

xoxo
Mama

Tags:   jack2 Comments